Two Fools With Nothing To Do
by Meg1
Summary: A look at how Logan moves on with his life after he loses both Max and his money. Chapter 2 is up, fianlly, and if you readit, remember: everybody likes reviews!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: The title was inspired by Karen, who provided some lovely suggestions as well as the spacing of the dots. Jeanne, the butter knife is for you. And if it will make you happy, the bum on the street is Fred.   
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-1-   
  
From the anxious look on his face, I knew Bling could tell everything from the panicked one on my own. It had been only a few weeks since I'd denounced my family's longtime involvement in the business of selling corrupted hoverdrones, but already I was running out of cash. Exoskeletons are not cheap to maintain, and neither are search and rescue missions to recover lost . . . well, I guess she's my girlfriend now. I thought that a call to my accountant cousin in Chicago might uncover some forgotten money in one of the family's accounts.   
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   
  
"Well?" Bling asked expectantly as soon as I'd hung up the phone.   
  
"Well, what?" I replied, annoyed at the whole situation.   
  
"Come on!" he said. "What did your cousin have to say?"   
  
"I couldn't keep up with all the financial mumbo-jumbo he was throwing around, but I could tell it's not good. I am not in good shape at all. No, not at all. In fact, I think I've got to start selling some of this crap . . ."   
  
"Hey, hey, come on, man! Tell me what he said and maybe I can he -"   
  
"That statue! That's got to be at least thirty-thousand, and it's ugly as sin. I won't miss it a bit. I can write up a classified ad and have it in the paper by tomorrow's edition . . ."   
  
"Slow down!"   
  
". . . apparently my uncle was dumb enough to bank everything on the hoverdrone business . . . hey, how much do you think that painting would go for? I bought it for, like, four-fifty, but that must have been ten years ago . . ."   
  
"You are an ass, you know that?" I was starting to sound frantic and Bling knew it.   
  
". . . No, I think it was more like five years. I think I bought it five years ago. What would that be worth now? That's four hundred and fifty-thousand, divided by five years . . . do you think I divide by five? Or do you multiply? Wait. Maybe it's multiply by five years and then add . . . something . . ." I needed a pencil. I needed help. Bling wasn't helping.   
  
"I don't think you're accomplishing anything by doing that."   
  
". . . Do you have a pencil? Or a calculator? Yo, I can just use the calculator on my computer. Shoot. I'm gonna have to get rid of the computer. Do you think I can run Eyes Only from a laptop? Or wait! Better yet! I can use that computer they have at the public library! No. People would see me. I better stick to the laptop. Okay, okay, okay, um, all right . . . the painting, the statue, the computer. They're all going. That's a little money, at least. How stupid. Even . . . even JamPony stock would be better than what I've got."   
  
"And what exactly is it that you've got? What have you been talking about?"   
  
"In short, I've got nothing. I am a broken and beaten man. From here on out, my friend, I am no better off than that man outside, asleep on that pile of trash in the gutter. Really, I'm no better off than the trash that he's sleeping on." I let out a long, sorrowful sigh.   
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bling peer out the window at the bum in question. He made a face and looked back at me.   
  
"I think you're a little better off then him," he said. "So all of your assets are defunct. So what? You'll sell some stuff, maybe move out of this penthouse, find someplace smaller, cheaper. I'll help you out. Lots of people would help you out. If the country knew that Eyes Only is in trouble, the donations would be pouring in, seriously."   
  
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't want to take donations from people. I can't do that."   
  
"Yes, you can. Because it would be for Eyes Only, not Logan Cale. You can live the rest of our life on the money you'll make selling this stuff. Eyes Only won't be so easy to maintain. Believe me, there's nothing wrong with Captain EO asking for a little financial assistance. You deserve it, I mean, financially speaking, you've never asked for a thing to help out with your quest to save the world. Why not now, now that you really need it?" Bling sounded insistent, and he looked at me like I was crazy for not wanting to go along with his idea.   
  
"Because I'm a spoiled rich kid. I need to do this on my own. I can't ask for help. I won't."   
  
"Bullshit! The last people that need a martyr are the rich. I won't let you kill yourself trying to keep up Eyes Only on your now nonexistent budget. I know you, and even though you don't come right out and ask for help, you imply it. Where'd you get that exo-whatevermajingy you've been trotting around in? I've never heard you ask for that, but there it is. Someone obviously figured that you wanted it."   
  
"Remember Phil?"   
  
"Phil who?"   
  
"You know, Phil with the weird camera hat?"   
  
Bling frowned as he tried to remember. "I don't think I was in that episode," he said.   
  
"Oh," I said, recalling back to that week's zany adventure, "I think you were in it at the very end, remember? When I got that box delivered to me, and you brought it into my office. That was the exoskeleton, sent to me from Phil."   
  
"Oh, ok, I remember now. But anyway, do you see where I'm coming from? I mean, unless you're planning on getting a part-time job, you're gonna have to give up a little of that classic Logan Cale pride. Anyway, I've got to go. I really hope you think about what I said. You're going to have to make some kind of decision, and soon."   
  
After Bling left, I did think about what he said. And I decided that I needed a job.   
  
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I woke up the early the next morning, a Tuesday, and got ready to go into town on my first day of job hunting. I hopped in the shower right away to wake me up, and since my razor is still missing, I skipped shaving. Instead, I cleaned up the really scraggly looking patches with a dull butter knife which I keep in the bathroom for just that purpose. I threw on some decent clothes -- nothing too nice, as I didn't want to give them the impression that I didn't need the money -- and got started on breakfast.   
  
I poked though the refrigerator, looking for something to eat, and after a few minutes I decided to make the only thing I know how -- pasta tricolore with uncooked dirty chicken on top. I forced myself to eat until I felt the bile start to rise in my throat, at which point I decided it was time to finish getting ready. 


	2. 2

Alrighty-o, here's chapter numero dos. Thanks to Jenn and DAF for joining my cast of characters, and, of course, to Karen. Enough of that. Now read and review!!   
  
-2——   
  
I decided to use my wheelchair for my job search rather than the exoskeleton for two reasons. First, I thought the wheelchair might make me look a little more helpless and pathetic, therefore guilting people into hiring me. Second, the exoskeleton had been malfunctioning a lot lately, and I thought that falling on my butt without warning during an interview might make them think I was drunk or something. Not the image I hoped to convey.   
  
I left a note for Bling explaining that I had to run into town to do some errands, and I was out the door by 9am.   
  
.........................................................   
  
I headed straight to the newsstand on the corner near my building. I figured that if I was going to be looking for a job, I should at least know who was hiring.   
  
I picked up a copy of The Streets and turned to the classifieds. There were so many ads! Like, two whole pages! I couldn't believe it. Man, If I'd have known it was going to be this much work to find a job, I never would have bothered. I would have done Bling's idea and started looking for donations. Two pages of ads. That's nuts. I never had to look for a job before, and I almost totally flipped out right there when I saw that there were so many. I thought there'd be like, five at the most.   
  
I guess I looked pretty stupid, sitting there all shocked and horrified at the classified ads, because the girl working at the newsstand looked concerned and asked me if I was all right. I told her I was fine, then I went back to the task at hand.   
  
I thought for a minute and decided that the best thing I could do would be just to pick three random places and try my luck with them. I didn't have any darts with me, which is my usual method for picking random things out of a bunch of choices, so I closed my eyes, held out the paper at arms length, shook my head around and spit three times.   
  
I was going to spit a fourth time, just to make sure I had enough places to stop at, but the girl working started having a fit.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?!" she screamed at me.   
  
I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Would you calm down . . . ." I looked at her name tag, ". . . Jenn M. ––- I''m reading my paper." I rolled my eyes. Some people . . . sheesh.   
  
She did some sort of little laugh that really ticked me off, and then she said "Yeah, well, you didn't pay for it, so would you mind not spitting on it? Some people . . . sheesh!"   
  
"Oh crap," I said under my breath. I thought I'd paid for the paper already. I took some money out of my pocket and shoved it at her. "Here's a five," I said. "Keep the change." I folded up the paper and got the heck away from Jenn and her newsstand as fast as I could.   
  
I could hear her call after me, "Thanks a lot, loser!"   
  
When I was a good six blocks away and I was sure she couldn't see me anymore, I opened back up to the classifieds to see what I'd picked:   
  
Now Hiring! Royal Emporium of the Supreme Ruler Of Meat Patties Accepting applications for: -Burger Flippers -Table Washers -Straw and Napkin Dispenser Filler-Uppers STARTING RATES UP TO $6 AN HOUR!!!! Call 789-837-MEAT or stop by today! Ask for DAF   
  
Great. A hamburger joint. I was hoping I'd spit on a computer hacker business or something. That's about the only thing I'm qualified to do, and the sad thing is, I can't really tell anyone. Hmmm.   
  
The Royal Emporium of the Supreme Ruler of Meat Patties was right down the road from me, so I decided to go there before I looked at my other choices. I missed the days when we could just call it Burger King, before the term "King" was considered a threat to loyalty to the government. Oh well. Royal Emporium it is, then.   
  
.........................................................   
  
When I got to the Royal Emporium, I rolled myself up to the counter, where I was met by a smiling cashier.   
  
"Hi," she greeted me. "Welcome to the Royal Emporium of the Supreme Ruler of Meat Patties. Can I take your order?"   
  
"Um, no," I replied, "actually, I'm here to apply for a job. Can I speak to . . . um, a D. A. F.?"   
  
"D. A. F.? Oh, you must mean Daf. Yeah, I'll get her. Hang on."   
  
The cashier disappeared around a corner, and emerged a few minutes later with another woman.   
  
"Hi!" I greeted her. "I'm Logan Cale. I saw your ad in the paper, and I'd like to apply for one of the positions you have available." I stuck out my hand, expecting her to shake it. Instead, she slapped it in a sort of awkward, sideways high-five and pointed to her name tag, then started in on a little sing-song speech:   
  
"I'm Daf; I'm in charge of the store.   
Our burgers are great, that's for sure.   
If it's fries you desire,   
they're next to the fire;   
A small is a buck eighty-four."   
  
A limerick!? I could compete with that. I answered her in haiku:  
  
"I desire work.   
Your french fries do not suit me.   
See my resume."   
  
The haiku seemed to impress her. She put down the hamburger she'd been eating and put her hand to her heart. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Welcome to The Royal Emporium of the Supreme Ruler of Meat Patties' family. What's your name again?""   
  
"Um, wow....I'm hired? I'm Logan. But you didn't ––-"   
  
"No need to interview you. You're obviously intelligent. You immediately responded to my limerick with a haiku. Can you fill napkin dispensers?"   
  
"Well," I said, "I've never actually done it before, but I've seen one, and I know the basic concept...."   
  
She looked distressed. "You've never filled one before? Oh, gosh. I was hoping you'd have known how. Our napkins and straws are getting really low and by my calculations we'll have customers taking them out of the box rather than the dispenser within the hour. I suppose I can call for backup today, but can you make it here first thing in the morning for training?"   
  
"You're going to train me on how to fill napkin dispensers?" I asked in disbelief.   
  
She sighed. "Listen, don't get all cocky about it. The last thing I need around here is an attitude. The springs in the dispensers are very sensitive, and if you don't load it properly, the napkins could potentially come out the front at an angle. That means that it takes just over two seconds longer for a customer to pull out an average amount of napkins. With two thousand customers coming through here each day and roughly three-quarters of them taking napkins, that adds up to nearly 53 extra minutes, completely wasted, just pulling out napkins. I'm sure you'll agree with me that that is no way to run a business." She picked up her hamburger again and started eating.   
  
She had a point.   
  
"You've got to be very scientific about these things," she told me between bites.   
  
"I, um, I don't know if I can..." I gulped, "I don't know if I can handle this kind of responsibility, I mean, I ––-"   
  
"What," she said, "you can't fill a napkin dispenser? Sheesh . . . some people . . . ."   
  
"Well, it's just that you made it sound like such a serious thing!" I cried in self-defense.   
  
"Your help will be needed no more.   
Please move yourself from my store.   
I thought you were bright;   
You're as dumb as a kite,   
Just turn now, and walk out the door."   
  
She grabbed a handful of fries and pointed at the door of the Royal Emporium of the Supreme Ruler of Meat Patties.   
  
"A kite is not dumb.   
You do not make sense at all.   
I'm leaving; good-day."   
  
I hung my head and headed out in search of my next potential job, contemplating how I could be as dumb as a kite. I didn't know kites were dumb. Hmmm....  
  



End file.
